Month: June 2025

Haiku by Kala Ramesh, Joanna Ashwell, and Manasa Reddy Chichili

On By Nicholas KlacsanzkyIn Haiku6 Comments

plucked jasmine
a funeral
        on my hands

— Kala Ramesh (India)
The Heron’s Nest: Volume XXIV, Number 1: March 2022

Commentary from Nicholas Klacsanzky:

Jasmine not only has a powerful scent but also has far-reaching symbolism in rites and rituals. In India, jasmine is a common flower used as garlands for the deceased. The scent of the flower is so strong that it often can linger on the hands of the person handling it. In this haiku, the poet creates emotional resonance with the contrast of death and the continuance of scent (or life) after an offering. Interestingly, due to the phrasing, the funeral mentioned could refer to a person or the flower itself.

The word “plucked” connects well to the theme of death, as after a flower is plucked, it eventually withers. The poet may be saying that like plucked jasmine, when people die, our scent is left behind in the form of memories, passed on wisdom, and life work. The phrase “on my hands” has a dual meaning of physically being on one’s hands and also a sense of responsibility. With added space in the third line, I believe Kala is illustrating the weight the funeral is having on her and the responsibility she feels in taking care of this rite. It is also a unique concept to see one’s hands as a funeral, which leads readers much to mull over.

Traditionally, jasmine is a kigo or seasonal reference for spring. In India, jasmine can blossom from spring to autumn. Overall, I propose that in the context of this haiku, Kala may have been increasing the resonating contrast of spring with the end of life.

The poem is quite efficient with only seven words. This effectiveness doubles with the usage of multiple meanings with “plucked” and “on my hands,” plus the employment of physical space in the third line. In terms of sound, the most outstanding letter is “l,” where the reader can almost feel the action of being plucked.

There are many ways for readers to imagine the haiku in existence and that is one of the strengths of this poem. Kala allows the “white space” in the haiku to speak and the result is a multi-layered poem that connects to the deeper recesses of our spiritual self.

chaffinch call
a brief burst
of sunshine

— Joanna Ashwell (UK)
Autumn Moon Haiku Journal, issue 3:2, Spring/Summer 2020

Commentary from Hifsa Ashraf:

Chaffinches call for many reasons, i.e. rain, warnings, mating, or interactions with each other. The chaffinch, a little bird, is a symbol of positivity, happiness, and good tidings. The call of a chaffinch is being heard by the poet or a keen observer, which shows how nature attracts our senses in different ways. Chaffinches have a soft tune when they chirp. When a person hears their call, it is in a calm and quiet place i.e. park, forest/jungle, garden, meadow, etc. The word ‘call’ instead of ‘chirp’ indicates that it is for a purpose. Having no ellipses at the end of line one allows us to interpret it in our own way. 

The rest of the haiku defines or specifies the chaffinch’s call which may be related to a pre-rain or post-rain situation. “A brief burst” is purely a seasonal expression here with some great analogies, i.e. a brief burst of joy, hope, laughter, or related feelings after a hopeless, cloudy, hazy day, or feelings. I see it as a sudden change in weather where the sun is playing hide and seek with clouds akin to the ups and downs in life where we need a call or news that can break gloomy feelings or thoughts. 

The third line of this haiku implies positive energy and life hidden in the sunshine which soothes our senses and changes our feelings/thoughts and ultimately our mood. If it is a pre-rain or post-rain circumstance, then ‘sunshine’ could mean brightness and light that makes us calm and positive after a rough patch or harsh weather.

I love this haiku because of its simplicity and expression. It shows how deeply our lives are connected with nature and how much we depend on it both internally and externally. 

Also, the sounds of ‘ch’, ‘s’, and ‘b’ make this haiku rhythmic and allow us to enjoy reading it while imagining the chaffinch’s call.

empty bowl
so many thoughts
singing in my heart

— Manasa Reddy Chichili (India)
Autumn Moon Haiku Journal, Volume 8:1 Autumn/Winter 2024

Commentary from Jacob D. Salzer:

I appreciate this haiku because, in the empty bowl, the poet’s heart and mind are full and overflowing with thoughts and images. The notion of “so many thoughts singing in my heart” gives me clear feelings of gratitude, harmony, and abundance. I appreciate how the value of the empty bowl becomes apparent in this haiku without explaining it. When each of us looks into the empty bowl, what do we see? 

This haiku could also involve a lack of food. I can see the poet holding the empty bowl, perhaps asking for food on a street. Even in this interpretation, the poet seems to be fulfilled in their spirit, even if food is scarce. In turn, I think of how food is sacred and not something to be wasted. The poet (and perhaps others) could have also just finished eating a meal and all that remains are so many thoughts of loved ones who are living and those who have passed.

I can also see a singing bowl in this haiku. This special bowl sings precisely because it is empty. 

This haiku also resonates with the well-known Buddhist saying from the Heart Sutra, “All form is emptiness. All emptiness is form.” Thoughts rise and fall, but only in what could be called a sacred silence. In a way, we could be seen as images of the invisible.

What songs can we sing to those we love in this lifetime? 

This is a moving haiku we can contemplate and experience without overly analyzing it. It is personal yet universal at the same time and accessible. We can each experience the poem in our own way. A beautiful haiku.

Painting by William Morris (1834-1896). Original from The Birmingham Museum.



Haiku by Goran Gatalica, Manoj Sharma, and Jennifer Gurney

On By Nicholas KlacsanzkyIn Haiku2 Comments

between the hills
blown away like the seeds
a shepherd’s song

— Goran Gatalica (Croatia)
Basho-an Award, The 6th Basho-an International English Haiku Competition, 2023

Commentary from Jacob D. Salzer:

A powerful haiku that includes multiple senses. There are four images in this haiku (the hills, the seeds, the shepherd, and the sheep). There are two sounds (the wind and the shepherd’s song), and there is a silence in the seeds, hills, and sheep, and in the shepherd, especially after the song is over.

In the first line, cemeteries are sometimes found on hills. This potential reference to death contrasts with the seeds symbolizing birth, although I actually see cycles of life and death vs. a stark contrast. 

In terms of sound, it’s interesting to note how the shepherd’s song travels farther between the hills. I can hear the song in the wind, which adds sonic depth. The sonic quality of “b” and “ee” seems to create an eerie feeling, while “away” and “song” seem to support a feeling of longing. I also usually see wind as a reference to a passing soul or souls. When we pass away, what seeds do we want to leave behind? The seeds could even be seen as seeds of karma, which implies the cycles of life and death and reincarnation.

The common definition of a shepherd is: (1) One who herds, guards, and tends sheep. However, a second definition is: (2) One who cares for and guides a group of people, as a minister or teacher. This second definition adds another layer to this haiku. Is the shepherd teaching a group of people through a song? What does the shepherd’s song sound like? Is it a spiritual song or a religious hymn? There is an inclination that this is an old song passed down through several generations. However, it could also be a new song. What are the lyrics? Where did this song come from? And what does it mean? The shepherd’s song could be one of hope, as seeds can be symbols of hope. However, the seeds may have been carried too far by the wind and perhaps didn’t land in healthy soil. In that case, perhaps this is a song of both hope and sorrow. Indeed, the words “blown away” seem to contain a clear sense of melancholy. There is also a sense of deep time in this haiku, as the hills are ancient.

In short, this is an interesting haiku that can be read from different perspectives. It is a deep and thoughtful haiku that asks us to consider our place on Earth, our ancestors, and Divinity. This haiku also asks us to contemplate our souls, our brief lives on Earth, and the afterlife.

looking back
at my younger self. . .
sun-kissed mangoes

— Manoj Sharma (Nepal)
Modern Haiku 55.2 : Summer 2024

Commentary from Hifsa Ashraf:

We cherish and miss our youth the most because it is full of adventures. I can feel this kind of youth in this haiku. The person is reminiscing about being young—the phase of life where one usually has the energy and freedom to do the things one wants. The narrator seems to be old enough that he finds it difficult to move on and reminisce about a time in his life that was opposite to his current self. So, in line one, looking back is not simply the remembrance of youth but also wishing to have the same energies or seeking solace in youth.

The second line ‘at my younger self’ with ellipses makes us pause for a while by asking some questions i.e. is this a photo or portrait, is he looking at a reflection in a mirror or in the water? A vivid memory? It seems the person is going through a transformation i.e. from middle adulthood to late adulthood. It is the most difficult time especially when one feels it mentally, physically, emotionally, and psychologically. It seems as if one self is departing and replacing another one, which is probably feeble. 

The last line in this haiku is really interesting and makes it more dynamic. Sun-kissed mangoes are definitely a beautiful analogy to the time of youth when mangoes not only ripen in the sun but also have their best taste. It shows how a youthful life flows like pulpy and juicy mangoes, which are sweet and provide energy. Sun-kissed mangoes as a kigo also show the beauty, care, and connection of nature with different phases of our lives. On the other hand, I see it as a very romantic and loving expression where a person fully enjoys one’s youth being surrounded by loved ones and expresses their feelings fully. 

your ratty sneakers
hanging out in the garage
as if you’re still here

— Jennifer Gurney (USA)
Five Fleas, March 17, 2025

Commentary from Nicholas Klacsanzky:

Having had several close members of my family pass away, this haiku resonates with me. It can connect with many readers, as the circumstance described is commonplace yet emotionally potent. The “ratty sneakers” become alive, serving in stead of the deceased (or possibly distant) important person. They transform into a representation of the mystery individual or even an independent entity that takes on a life of its own. There is also an irony in ratty sneakers becoming so poignant. It demonstrates that with emotional weight, any object can be of significance. This relates to the Japanese aesthetic concept of aware, which denotes how a physical object can trigger a personal or spiritual response.

The writing style of the haiku is extremely relaxed and natural. I believe this is what the great master Basho advocated for with his concept karumi. There is no particular kigo or seasonal reference. However, the poet may have been aiming more for a senryu or simply did not see the importance of adding a kigo. Either way, the poem does well with the subject matter and descriptions, giving us just enough for us to imagine and feel deeply.

The pace of the poem approximates the traditional Japanese haiku rhythm, which comes out to a short first line, a longer second line, and a short third line in English. The effectiveness of the haiku/senryu also is seen in its conciseness, with no word out of place. Finally, the sound of the poem propels its atmosphere further. I especially enjoy the “r” sounds, which provide weight, and the letter “s” which appears to slow down the reading so we can take in the poem better.

This is a poem that looks like it was written with the utmost ease yet it has several layers of meaning and feeling. Most importantly, it can easily connect to readers and move them to memories of loved ones and the power of objects that surround us.

“The Shepard,” a painting by Alexander Roche (1861-1921)

Haiku by Ingrid Jendrzejewski, Joseph Howse, and Srini

On By Nicholas KlacsanzkyIn Haiku3 Comments

rush hour
the paper bag
crossing the street

— Ingrid Jendrzejewski (UK)
April 2024 at Cafe Haiku (Cityscape series)

Commentary from Hifsa Ashraf:

The opening line makes this haiku quite interesting. ‘Rush hour’ is now a new normal, where everyone is trying to meet the requirements of a fast-paced life. No ellipses after it may mean it’s open to interpretation. Everyone can fit in the scene according to their daily routine. It can be jobs, errands, studies, meet-ups, business, events, etc. In any case, the time is crucial and significant. The ‘sh’ sound in ‘rush’ highlights the urgency of work, while the silent ‘h’ in ‘hour’ shows how quickly it passes without letting us be aware of it. 

The second line shows us those priorities that are usually not significant enough but keep poking us throughout the day. These priorities or tasks may distract us or deviate us from our main focus. ‘The’ before ‘paper bag’ refers to a specific bag or an analogy to our materialistic life that may be hollow and empty yet chaotic as well. This also indicates the mess around us that makes our life more complicated as mentioned in the third line of this haiku.

Crossing the street, or crossing our path, prompts us stop or slow down the ‘rush hour’. This could also relate to ceasing our thoughts or feelings. It also means that sometimes certain irrelevant things become relevant even if we are not paying much attention. This is how delicate our lives are. This is how emptiness or loneliness behind a fast-paced life keeps following us or crosses our paths. We realize that our relevance is defined by our attitude towards life.

raspberry fenceline
a neighbour asks
how many kids in the plan

— Joseph Howse (Canada)
Kokako 42, April 2025

Commentary from Jacob D. Salzer:

An effective haiku that speaks of boundaries, social dynamics, and responsibilities. The first line is unique in that the fence itself could be the raspberry vines. Alternatively, the raspberry vines could be growing against an actual fence, and perhaps over the fence. The imagery and scent in the first line include both the sweetness of raspberries and the thorns of their vines that are likely entangled. This creates a powerful juxtaposition because we can imagine the tangled raspberry vines as being a metaphor for the complexity of relationships. In addition, there is a correlation between the plants growing (and the raspberries ripening) and the children growing and maturing over time. Will the children eventually climb over the neighbor’s fence? There is some potential humor in this haiku as well. Indeed, the neighbor’s question in the third line seems to signify a mental preparation for more babies and children in the neighborhood. I imagine a young couple buying their first house and talking about having children, which is a deep conversation that requires a lot of careful thought and planning. The last two lines could also imply that the neighbor may offer to help raise their children and support the family over the years. In summary, this is an interesting and effective haiku that speaks of boundaries, planning, responsibility, and the complex dynamics of social life in neighborhoods. A well-written haiku.

a sentence without punctuation desert silence

— Srini (India)
Kingfisher Journal, issue 10, 2025

Commentary from Nicholas Klacsanzky:

The concept of this haiku is clever. It discusses a sentence without punctuation and also presents itself as such. The word “sentence” can have dual meanings: a syntactical construction and what a criminal receives (or an innocent person sent to trial) as a punishment. Having “a sentence without punctuation” could refer to a person sentenced to life in prison.

Being a one-line haiku, it can be read in multiple ways: “a sentence without punctuation/desert silence”; “a sentence/without punctuation desert silence”; “a sentence without punctuation desert/silence”; and read as one flowing thought. The most natural, in my view, would be to read it as “a sentence without punctuation/desert silence.” However, each reader may approach it intuitively in different ways. Either way, this haiku shows a strong bond between human linguistics and nature. Another perspective is that this haiku is a contrast between something fabricated (language) and something standing alone in itself (the desert).

There is no kigo or seasonal reference per se, but “desert silence” does point to a certain time. It is most probably at twilight or early morning in the desert. This has an interesting potential for resonance with the idea of a sentence. A sentence is something formed and could relate to these times when life is waking up or is unclear.

Looking at the sound, I enjoy the letters “s” and “c” being reflections possibly of the hiss of sand. The letter “t” also has a finality to it that could connect to the context of a sentence or desert silence.

This haiku follows the principle of brevity with only six words present. Basho spoke of the necessity of haiku having no hindrance for the reader, yet there is deep meaning. I believe this haiku strikes this chord. It is one of the few haiku I have seen use the word “silence” successfully without me flinching, as often the word is employed in a cliche or lazy fashion. Srini has written a haiku that is at once natural and linguistic, which comes full circle in the context of the poem.

Red Raspberries on a Forest Floor by William Mason Brown, c. 1866, High Museum of Art